The Rangeley Lakes Region of western Maine is known for the size and number of its native brook trout. But one fish stands out above all the rest: White Nose Pete, sometimes referred to as Pin Cushion Pete for reasons that soon become apparent.
My encounter with this piscatorial desperado came on an evening in late August more than 40 years ago. A slight breeze rustled the aspens. The scent of balsam hung in the air as the sun slipped behind the conifer-studded hills along the shoreline of Upper Richardson Lake. Water thundered out of the open sluices of Upper Dam, which held back the waters of Mooselookmeguntic Lake from those of Upper Richardson.
I had been casting a Gray Ghost, the famous streamer created by Carrie Stevens. She and her husband Wallace were among the many fly-fishing notables who gravitated to the region in the 1920s and 1930s much as anglers do today. If you’re a fly fisherman, Upper Dam remains the place to be.
That afternoon, my thoughts drifted toward times gone by. Wallace Stevens was one of the region’s preeminent guides from the 1920s through the 1940s. While Wallace guided sports, Carrie tied streamers like the one I’d been casting for hours. She tied many of them at Camp Midway, the couple’s cottage at Upper Dam, where a plaque honoring western Maine’s first lady of fly fishing was installed in 1970.
Then my attention shifted back to the dark water beneath the dam.
A huge brook trout rose to inspect the Gray Ghost I’d been working along the shoulder of a submerged boulder. It may have been my imagination, but remnants of feathers and fur seemed to hang from the fish’s unusually white maw as the enormous trout grabbed Carrie’s pattern in the corner of its jaw. Swinging its head in the opposite direction, the fish snapped my heavy leader as if it were yarn.
I could’ve sworn it grinned at me before plunging back into the depths beneath the dam.
I knew the pools below Upper Dam had long been home to large brook trout, though by the time I began visiting the region, landlocked salmon had come to dominate the fishery. Even so, rumors persisted about a brook trout that dared anglers to challenge his reign.
From what I gathered from local fishermen, the legendary trout known as Pete had survived through the years by repeatedly outwitting those who pursued him. Reports of the fish’s exploits began soon after Upper Dam’s construction in the late 1800s and continue to this day.
In much the same way Townes Van Zandt immortalized a flamboyant Mexican bandit in “Poncho and Lefty,” another Upper Dam notable, Charles Edward Wheeler, memorialized the region’s most celebrated brook trout in his 1923 poem, “The Ode to White Nose Pete.”
Better known as Shang to his friends, Wheeler was an accomplished angler and longtime friend of Wallace and Carrie Stevens. Renowned for the duck decoys he carved, Shang won first prize in the amateur category of the International Decoy Makers Contest for 12 consecutive years. He also encouraged Carrie to tie her first streamer.
By the time Wheeler wrote his paean to Pete, most anglers agreed the trout breaking their lines was one of Pete’s descendants, because no brook trout could live for more than 100 years.
Or could it?
A few true believers remained, including another of Upper Dam’s notable anglers, Col. Joseph D. Bates, who later wrote several books about his experiences casting streamers in those hallowed waters.
As recounted in Graydon R. Hilyard’s 2000 book “Carrie G. Stevens: Maker of Rangeley Favorite Trout and Salmon Flies,” Bates — then only a captain — fought the wily brook trout one September afternoon until his line suddenly went slack.
Years later, while stationed in the Pacific, Bates wrote to Wallace Stevens asking whether the fish remained at large. Wallace responded by enclosing a photograph of Pete’s head mounted beneath glass.
But in another letter, Wheeler implied the mount was fake, carved from wood, and claimed that before leaving for the season he had seen Pete finning contentedly below the dam.
For years the mystery persisted. Sightings of Pete surfaced from time to time while the wooden mount disappeared from public view. It re-emerged in 2010 and now hangs in the Rangeley Outdoor Heritage Museum beneath these words:
“Here’s all that is left of White Nose Pete
His mouth contained most every fly.
So there was naught to do but die.”
— Shang
If you find yourself in the Rangeley Lakes Region on one of those summer evenings when lupines bloom and a breeze stirs the aspens, take a drive down the logging road and walk past the gate toward Upper Dam.
Listen to the water rush through the sluices. Stare into the deep pools below the dam.
Blink and you may miss that enormous brook trout with the white nose, the one that appears to smile from the swirling current.
Look harder and you may spot my Gray Ghost streamer among the many others jutting from its jaw, because I have it on good authority — at least as reliable as Shang Wheeler — that old Pete continues to haunt those dark waters below Upper Dam.
The Rangeley Region Chamber of Commerce will sponsor the fifth White Nose Pete Fly Fishing Festival on June 5 and 6, in and around the Rangeley Inn & Tavern on Main Street.
Friday night events begin at 6 p.m. and include Fly Fishing Hall of Fame inductions, a live auction, light fare and a cash bar. Tickets are $20 at the door.
Saturday’s events run from 9 a.m. to 3 p.m. and include vendors, demonstrations, presentations, fly tying and casting instruction, a casting competition, a kids’ scavenger hunt and more.
